


Dragon and Koi

by Whisper132



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max's family ties bind him closer than he would like to Five-0's most wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I have repeatedly expressed my disinterest in engaging in any medical activity outside of my range of expertise," Max said, readying a needle of local anesthetic. "I believe you have salaried staff on hand to tend to these situations."

Wo Fat said nothing, didn't even wince as the needle entered his arm.

"Next time you decide to engage in combat, please take proper precautions. Additionally, should you find your arm sliced open and the wound deep enough to require stitches, please go to the hospital immediately. Waiting inside my apartment for five hours is unacceptable."

"Pay attention to your work," Wo Fat said and pointed to the three inch gash Max was about to begin stitching up. "Yell at me later."

Max worked quickly and in silence. It took only a matter of moments to complete his task. "I'm not yelling. I'm merely expressing concern as a medical professional," he said as he cleaned up. This wasn't a new conversation, more the required reprimand Max gave when Wo Fat took it upon himself to do something unnecessary. If he wanted to kill, there were people for it. If he wanted medical attention, there were people for that, too. Max was not and had never been one of those people.

"Your father never complained." Wo Fat checked over the stitches as though he knew anything about them.

"My father is retired and living in South Dakota," Max pointed out. "Furthermore, he was an employee of your…establishment."

"Are you going to refuse medical service to the man whose generosity put you through medical school?"

Next time, Max would do the stitches without the anesthetic. "As you can see, I provided the services requested. I am simply asking that you use your resources instead of compromising my position."

Wo Fat grinned. "And what position is that?" The slow slide of his tongue over his bottom lip said he had a few theories. Max was…only slightly tempted.

"My position as a trusted member of the medical community." Max kept a stern face, even as Wo Fat took hold of his wrist and drew him closer.

"My deepest apologies for putting you in such a compromising position." The side of Wo Fat's mouth quirked up ever so slightly, and his gaze moved upward from the wrist he held prisoner, wending a path up along Max's arm until their eyes met. "I assure you that any discomfort is unintentional." Wo Fat's nails raked up and down Max's arm softly, and he raised his injured arm to wrap around Max's waist.

"Might I remind you that you should refrain from putting undue stress on the wound," Max choked out.

Wo Fat rubbed his fingers in circles, slowly dipping them down to untuck Max's shirt. "I'm completely relaxed, doctor. No stress at all." He hummed in the back of his throat and gave one last pull, bringing Max's knees to knock against the dining room chair he was sitting on. "Your concern warms my heart."

 _Space. The final frontier…_

Wo Fat's hands dropped at the sound of Max's work phone ringing. For a brief moment, Max was tempted to ignore it, just let whatever body was needing his attention sit cold for a few moments more. Besides, he hated telephones, didn't trust them. The man responsible for that mistrust was currently looking at him as though he was an appetizer so the point was currently moot, but a general sense of caution was wise nonetheless.

In the end, Max's work ethic won out and he answered on the second ring. Noting the caller ID, he sighed. "How may I help you, Commander McGarrett?"

*****

Max returned home just as the sun was beginning to rise. The body he examined had arrived damaged, and he had to take extra care in his proceedings. It was a fascinating case, but the extra concentration rekindled the muscular tick in his back and now a sharp pain shot from his lower back to the base of his neck. He could easily sleep it off, though.

"Did you have fun playing with the police?" Wo Fat was perched on the arm of the sofa reading Max's morning paper. "A hiker found half burned and half submerged in water?" He turned the paper and Max quickly skimmed the headline for his case. "Looks like McGarrett is still keeping you entertained." He made no sound as he walked across the hardwood floor and moved behind Max, massaging deep into his shoulders. When Wo Fat said, "You can keep him for a little longer," it was a mist that preceded a light kiss to the back of Max's ear. "I have work."

In his state of exhaustion, Max couldn't work up a reply other than, "Be safe," though he was sure it wasn't Wo Fat who needed to be cautious.

Wo Fat grinned but said nothing as he walked out the door. A car pulled up into the parking lot and he slipped inside. Max watched as the car drove out of his line of sight before closing the front door and locking the two deadbolts. He wanted more, but the landlord refused his petition for repairs.

He was a little surprised to find that his dishes had been run through the washer and put away in their appropriate locations. He scanned them quickly to ensure that they had no streaks or bits of crusted takeout left on them, but they were, as expected, perfect.

"This is highly worrisome," Max whispered to an impeccably clean spoon. "He's touching my things." It was hardly the first time Wo Fat had meddled with Max's possessions, but it was the first time the man had put his hands on things in Max's home. Illegally copying lab reports was something Max could understand, but doing another man's dishes was odd and indicated that Wo Fat might have some psychological issues. Max did not want any of those issues impacting his life which was, despite some conflicted loyalty issues on his part, going rather well.

Placing the spoon back into its drawer, Max wandered to the piano in his living room. He needed to think, and he always thought best while playing. Closing his eyes, he lost himself in the hills and valleys of music until he was too tired to press the keys and it was time to wander to bed.

*****

After the distressing episode with the dishwasher, Wo Fat disappeared. It wasn't uncommon, part of the life of a crime lord, Max assumed, so he didn't particularly give it much thought. He managed to spare a little bit of thought, though, mostly when he was waiting for the centrifuge to finish up or some lab work to come back.

"Something wrong, my friend?" Detective Danny Williams smiled and patted Max on the shoulder. Max hadn't seen him come into the office.

"Nothing is wrong." Max straightened out his coat. It was unlikely it was wrinkled from the contact, but better safe than slovenly. "Your concern is appreciated but can be conveyed without physical contact. Please don't touch me."

"Sorry, sorry. I forget sometimes." Danny held up his hands and backed away. "Also no chatting, right?"

"Correct." Max walked from his office into his lab. Danny followed. "There are still some tests pending, but I can safely conclude that poisoning was not the cause of death."

"There was a bottle of poison next to the body."

"The crime scene photos also showed a glass of what appears to be cognac on a table next to an empty decanter. While there were no traces of the cleanser cocktail in the tox screening, there was a lethal amount of alcohol in the victim's blood."

"Cognac? Could you tell that by the photo, or was that in the report?"

Awkward. Very awkward. "I have an acquaintance that is partial to the drink. Additionally, the decanter had a Courvoisier emblem on it." Max went to the counter and took a picture from the file Kono had sent over.

Danny laughed and squinted at the photo Max handed to him. "And here I thought _I_ was the one doing the detective work."

"Yes, well, moving back to the test results—"

"Say, do you think this guy just drank too much, or was there more to it?" Danny continued to look at the photo and started to pace, his feet making an irritating thump-thump on the floor.

A pressure began to build in Max's sinuses and the muscle tick in his back roared to life. "I will let you know when the remainder of the test results are in. Until then, I have other work to complete."

"Too chatty?"

"Yes."

Detective Williams saw himself out.


	2. Chapter 2

"I would like to stress that impersonating an officer of the law is a crime punishable by incarceration." Max had a list of things he wished to accomplish on his day off. Being accomplice to a crime was not on that list. "I would like to further stress that I am uncomfortable with your request that I assist you." He sprayed some starch onto the shirt and continued to iron.

"I'll be sure to get you a token of my gratitude." Wo Fat patted Max's shoulder.

Max set the iron aside and flipped the shirt. "I was not requesting thanks. I was requesting that you not involve me in your business dealings." The uniform shirt he was ironing smelled of something floral. He couldn't imagine Wo Fat walking around town smelling of potpourri. Old Spice, perhaps, but never potpourri. "After I finish ironing the sleeves, kindly leave. After you put the shirt on, of course. The human body is constantly sloughing off dead skin, and I just vacuumed."

Wo Fat stepped up behind Max and covered over the hand holding the iron with his own. His bare chest radiated warmth that soaked into Max's back through the old t-shirt he wore to lounge around the apartment. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Turning off the iron, Max whipped the shirt off his ironing board and spun around to hand it to Wo Fat. "Please thoroughly destroy this uniform after you've put it to whatever use you have in mind. Should it turn up in an investigation, I don't want to be linked to you in any way." He was going to say more, but the words began to slip from his mind the moment he was face to face with Wo Fat, the man's quirked lips mocking Max's attempts at civility and reason, his proximity violating every rule Max had regarding personal space.

"I'll see that everything's taken care of." Wo Fat slipped into the freshly pressed shirt. "I'll be busy for the next few days."

Max reached forward and straightened Wo Fat's collar then quickly removed his hands. "Any well wishes I might have for you are futile so I will refrain. Don't be killed as I will inevitably be the one asked to do your autopsy—"

"And reaching into my naked body and fiddling with my organs doesn't appeal to you?" Wo Fat moved forward again and Max could feel the furnace of Wo Fat's body licking heat across the flecked paint of a Star Trek DS9 logo near his heart. "Don't worry about me. I'll keep this body safe for you."

Torn between "thank you" and "get out," Max chose to say nothing and waited for Wo Fat to step away and leave, a deep and rolling laugh trailing behind him.

*****

Max was thankful that his roommate was rarely home. In fact, in the three years that they'd shared the residence, Tim made use of the apartment for a total of 58 days. He was generally away on business, traveling to China for meetings and product sales. He worked in pharmaceuticals. That was what he told Max, at least, and, while Max had a few theories as to the truth of the situation, he preferred not to dwell on them. His life was already overly complex as it was.

"Sorry about the lamp." Steve McGarrett was currently attempting to fold Tim's shirt. He had refused doctor's orders to rest and had, instead, broken into Max's apartment for a second time to return the borrowed article.

"Commander McGarrett—"

"Steve."

"Steve. Over many centuries of domesticated civilization, the human race has developed a system by which to enter another individual's domicile. This system begins with remaining outside the residence until being invited inside. While this tradition has been hyperbolized for the purposes of entertainment, most notably the necessity for a vampire to be invited into the home to be capable of entry, the system is still a societal norm and should be observed." Max crossed his arms across his chest in what he hoped was a stern manner. He'd never been particularly adept at stern expressions. "You are also breaking the law by entering my apartment without a warrant or invitation. You should be arrested."

"So knock next time?" Steve continued to attempt a proper shirt fold. After three more tries, he gave up and handed the wadded up material to Max. "Tell your roommate thanks for the loaner." Steve's phone rang and he picked it up. "McGarrett." His face pinched and he bared his teeth. "Who is this?"

Max moved out of the way as Steve ran toward a window.

"Where are you?" Steve looked around wildly then drew his gun, pointing it out the window. "Well if you can see me, then you know I'll shoot the second I see you." There was a long pause before Steve lowered his gun and turned off his phone. "This building isn't safe," he said. "Wo Fat knows where you live, and he knows that you know me. I'll see what I can do about getting you a temporary place, but it may be best for you to stay at work. There are cameras and security there. You'll be safe."

Max paused, thinking his next words through before speaking. "Please repeat what was said over the telephone. I might have some insights to offer."

Steve looked out the window again. "He said that I had ten minutes to get out. After that, his mercy would run out."

It had been four days since Wo Fat's last visit. Perhaps he was done conducting his business. "In that case, allow me to show you to the door. I will take your warning under advisement and begin looking into some vacation packages. I have a significant amount of paid leave accumulated and was contemplating a trip." Max opened the front door. "Please drive safely."

One hand near his gun, Steve slipped out of Max's apartment, back to the building. Max closed the door and was not surprised by the sigh that issued from the back of the apartment.

"You've become very popular, doctor."

Max turned to see Wo Fat holding a blood soaked rag to his arm. "I'm afraid you'll have to go to the hospital to get that tended," Max said, straightening his posture and raising his nose toward the ceiling. "I'm on vacation."

*****

South Dakota was a wonderland compared to Hawaii. As Max's father drove him into Watertown's city limits, Max's stress seemed to magically lift off of his shoulders.

"Your mother wants to go to the zoo," his father said. "They have a white tiger."

Max didn't care much for animals, but his mother, an animal biologist, enjoyed going to zoos and nitpicking at staff about inaccuracies in the animals' habitats. She and Detective Williams shared many character traits in common, possibly why Max found Detective Williams to be the easiest member of Five-0 to approach. "The zoo would be fine," Max said after a pause. His carsickness was beginning to nag at him despite the medication he'd taken.

"I heard that you've been busy. Lots of cases to handle."

"I'm surprised news of Hawaii's homicides have reached the mainland. While they've been numerous this year, the general crime rate is lowering." Max had a feeling he knew where this conversation was headed, and it didn't help his building nausea.

"The president called. He expressed his gratitude for our family's continued support." Mr. Bergman reached over and gave Max's knee a quick pat before returning his hand to the wheel. "Your mother and I are honored that you've chosen to continue in our tradition of service. The president is a good man, and he'll see that you're well taken care of."

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. I have no intention of operating outside of the parameters of my vocation, and I certainly do not wish to aid in criminal activity. If you happen to contact…the president again, please express my wish to be left alone."

Mr. Bergman frowned. "We'll discuss it later, son."

Max's stomach churned. While in medical school he'd been subjected to this particular brand of discussion on a monthly basis. His parents called him to inform him that his monthly living stipend was in his account, courtesy of the most generous Wo Fat, who wanted nothing in return but to know that he was aiding the son of one of his most valuable employees. A good quantity of that money was still in the account, Max preferring to use the funds from his on-campus job to finance his ramen diet. He did buy one DVD box set, though. It was a special edition. He couldn't resist.

"I do not wish to discuss anything on my vacation," Max said, speaking up to his father for the first time in his considerable recollection. "That is my final statement."

Mr. Bergman raised his eyebrow but made no other complaint. The rest of the drive was chatterless.


	3. Chapter 3

"You, my friend, look like your vacation was about as vacationesque as my life has been since I came to this fabulous island." Danny stood in Max's office for reasons Max had yet to determine. Technically, Max was on vacation until midnight.

"You have made an astute observation. Is there something I can assist you with?" Max just stopped by the office to check his inbox and do some light dusting. His piano was also in need of tuning.

"You might want to sit down." Danny began to tamper with his hair. Max was still debating whether it was a nervous habit or merely a display of severe vanity. Most signs pointed toward vanity.

"Detective Williams, there is no conclusive proof that sitting down lessens the stress of receiving bad news. I assume that is why you came to my office—" Max checked his clock, "—five hours prior to my resumption of duties."

"Okay, you don't want to sit. Don't sit." He slicked his hair again, and Max hoped that Danny didn't touch anything in the office. There was no telling what sort of microbial hitchhikers were calling Detective Williams' hair gel their temporary home.

"Detective Williams—"

"Danny."

"Please relate your information quickly. I haven't had dinner yet."

"Oh. You, ah, want to grab a bite together? I know a good—"

"Quickly. Please."

"Okay." The hair again. "After the phone call he got at your place, Steve started surveillance on your apartment. The results weren't so good." Danny looked around the room a moment before continuing. "We caught Wo Fat entering your apartment."

Max's silence was less stunned and more irate in nature.

"There's more," Danny continued. "He had…a fruit basket. We think it might be masking a bomb."

Max was less concerned about Wo Fat's presence in his apartment and more worried about the real possibility that there was fruit rotting in his living room, feeding an inevitable infestation of flies and other insect life. He realized that his nonchalance regarding a felon's presence in his home was probably a sign that his priorities had become slightly skewed, but Wo Fat showered regularly. Fruit flies were disgusting.

"So..." Danny swayed from side to side, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Dinner?"

Visions of fruit flies danced in Max's mental eye. "I will have to decline."

"Now, just to be clear, you're not going to stay at your apartment." The hand was in the hair again.

"Detective Williams, I can assure you that I will be perfectly safe. My apartment, on the other hand, is currently being assaulted by a variety of winged invaders. If I do not act quickly, my home will become unsuitable to live in, regardless of what other safety considerations might exist."

Danny's mouth opened and closed a few times before he put his gel contaminated hands in his pockets and began pacing. "Okay, let me explain this again." He stopped pacing and pointed to Max. "You are in danger. Not your apartment, but _you_. If you go back to your apartment, Wo Fat will kill you. A killer knows where you live. This is a bad thing."

Max circled Danny toward the door. "Thank you for your insights, Detective Williams."

"Da—"

"Detective Williams." Max opened the door. "I look forward to your future visits…during my on-call hours."

Danny clenched his fist and shook it in Max's direction, but left without further verbal comment.

 

*******

"Your father said you had a little heart to heart." Wo Fat was sitting in Max's bed, reading a book. Max was unaware that he needed glasses for reading. The sight was…not unappealing but still thoroughly inappropriate. Wo Fat was wearing Max's favorite flannel pajamas, and not only were they too big, they now had a stain on the front pocket. "Sorry for borrowing your things," Wo Fat said, taking in the pajamas with a sweep, "but your watchdogs are surprisingly thorough. It was quite the effort to get in unnoticed."

"Had it occurred to you that remaining outside of my home would have been an option?"

Wo Fat grinned. "Didn't occur to me at all."

Max felt a sudden kinship with Detective Williams. He'd often seen Danny miming various weaponry at Commander McGarrett's head. Max now understood why. "I have accepted my father's request to continue aiding you during emergency scenarios with the understanding that any contact in non-life threatening situations is to be avoided." The stain on the shirt appeared to be wine. It was never going to come out. "Your life isn't in danger. Please leave. If you need my assistance, go to my office and I will meet you there."

Wo Fat marked his place and closed his book. "Oh, but doctor, my life is in great danger." He removed the covers and slipped off the bed. He came to stand in front of Max, taking the other man's hand in his own. "Feel it," he said. He pushed Max's hand under the flannel, just above his heart. He leaned forward. "It's going to jump right out, doctor."

"Ah…" There was a thickness in the back of Max's throat preventing a proper reply. The hand Wo Fat was pressing to the curve of Max's back was also catalyst to his verbal ineptitude.

"As a medical professional, it's your responsibility to heal me."

Closer, millimeter by millimeter, Wo Fat drew Max in. Max could feel the other man's strong heartbeat through the flannel and his own t-shirt. The room's temperature was slowly escalating, the room's lights dimming in the shadow of Wo Fat's body. "I'm currently on vacation," Max managed, the words hitching in the vowels as Wo Fat began to drag his teeth across the stubble of Max's cheek. "Any medical attention you require will have to wait for another thirty minutes."

Wo Fat's low laughter slid through Max's skin in a shiver. "Thirty minutes can mean the difference between life and death." His lips slid over Max's, a quick brush from right to left. "Are you willing to let me die tonight, doctor?" Hands pulled Max painfully close. "Save me. No one will ever know."

Max swallowed, tried to look away but Wo Fat's face pressed to his made movement impossible.

"Be mine, doctor." Another slide of lips from left to right. "Twenty-eight minutes left, doctor. Do you want to waste them?" A leg slid between Max's, rubbing downward, then pulling up. "Or will you save this poor, dying man?"

His shoulders were shaking and his heart was threatening to shatter his rib cage, but Max managed to gather himself enough to make reply. "As a medical professional, it _is_ my responsibility."

There were no more words.

 

*****

 

Max stood at the dealership, courage in hand. He was ready to make the most important purchase of his life.

"My apologies, sir, but only the yellow is in stock. If you want the red model, we can order it for you. It will only take an extra week to get it here."

The yellow wasn't bad, really. It was…jaunty. "I'll take the yellow," Max decided. "Do you have the forms for the personalized plates?"

"Of course." The salesman's smile lit up an extra 100 watts. "Right this way, sir." He led Max to a small cubicle on the sales floor and motioned for him to sit down. "I'll get the paperwork."

Max was going to miss his fossil collection, but this was going to be worth every penny. Sometimes he had to seize the moment.

"Just sign here, sir." The salesman offered Max his pen.

Max perused the contract. "Why are these numbers all zero?" he asked, pointing at the various add-ons he'd selected and their prices.

"It's been handled, sir." The salesman winked. "Don't worry about anything."

"Why is the total zero?" Max pointed to the amount due. "I haven't paid you yet." He checked his fanny pack just to make sure the envelope of cash was still there.

"It's been handled, sir." The salesman was beginning to sweat and look around. "Please don't make a scene. I could get fired if anyone finds out."

There were two options. One, he could take the car and keep his money as a nest egg for retirement. Two, he could walk out and leave Sally—that was the car's name, he decided—at the dealership and pursue another opportunity.

An hour later, Max and Sally were on their way to a crime scene. The money would be used to buy new deadbolts. Nobody was entering Max's apartment uninvited again. Nobody.


End file.
